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Topic: The Three Word Story Thread (Read 35625 times)

Let's try this...Simple game, build a story by adding posts containing just three words at a time.Simple rules, you can't follow yourself and hyphenated words only count as one word if the parts are not stand-alone words (e.g. "stand-alone" = 2, "co-worker" = 1).---

For the benefit of those that want to get the whole story so far but don't want to go through all the pages...it will be periodically updated here....

"Right", said Jem, "about this AGM. I can't go without new shoes or a t-shirt because of my over-the-ocean trip."

"I must", Flies the Snowman said, "stay here. It'll get better."

Then disaster struck as the snowman started to melt towards the rotating black light machine which was heading for the Pocket Sun recycling bin that's located behind the Milliontown Curry Rehabilitation Centre, where Catherine goes to Mary Jane's immaculate launderette each week.

On the shelf , behind the biscuits, are the toys that Jem used to create the two Frost* albums that we love so much that WE WANT MORE!We might get better reception if we move the Tunnocks Tea Cakes to my stomach.

Meanwhile, over in deepest East Sussex, the New Cube blew the mains as the keyboards melted from the widdling fingers of the noisy toys. A small figure cackles with glee and then says; "Mwahahahahahaaa, at last!", as he creates the next chapter in the continuing saga of left-handedist gadget acquisition.

The chances are that new ironing boards won't taste as yummy as Cadbury's thought they would!

A sterling effort in trying to make an attempt upon the most amount of Mellotron ever played in 7/8 time ended in disaster after eight seconds. But nevertheless, unperturbed, a musical journey ensued that would open your eyes and clean out the fuzz in your naval attaché and from your great, great grandmother's sister's dog's flea's interesting vinyl collection.

Something majestic awoke with an idea.

"I know what, we can't dance while holding these two dancing baarlsps tapdancing in 11/47 with the sugar frosting melting away. Why don't we try the other sugar plum fairy mix? It might attract some different auditory responses from Monster Munch Tuesday, which happens to occur biannually when Monster Plum Fairy jumps on the Taurus Bass Pedals and makes significant impressions in the Earth's crust, creating a crimped edge, like apple pie uniformly nibbled by the ranks of marauding Frosties who migrate annually to The Peel, Kingston or, failing that, the Summer’s End where good times prog and roll.”

“Where to next?”, asked the biscuit to the gravy boat hire attendant.She was a boat hire attendant. Her name was ‘Beau Tyre Atten-Dent’.

She was a mysterious wee lass, third frost album and two thirds short of a creek-proof paddle, with underlying tones of aromatic Patchouli wafting around her small but perfectly formed French horn-rimmed reading glasses that were slightly too thick to be beer goggles, but yet could still pass as stained glass windows, if you'd had myopic colour blindness.

Her beady eyes stared glaring at her gig ticket. December can't come ever due to medical problems that had baffled eminent neurosurgeons for many rusty relics up until the time that the big cheese who was? murdered brutally by one of the? smaller cheeses because of an obstinate blockage of ‘His Own Special Whey’, Genesis’ bovine lovesong, written underneath a genuine bovine love handle, which hung like an inflatable and yet strangely deformed mutated banana that had travelled to Helen Bach with Johanne Sebastian Sidebottom, the infamous and portly castrato hurdling accident victim, who caught his crown jewels in a carrier bag full of liquid nitrogen and apples which burnt fiercely through his latex mankini exposing his rhyming couplets, which taste nice grilled on a bed of grilled trout.

Interrogated fish taste like pork cooked over a slowly maturing dung heap left by a flatulent wandering minstrel, whose flute was stolen from Jethro Tool. It's somewhat bent out of shape because he met Uri Geller who rubbed it furiously until it spat strange sticky jammy dodgers at someone who wasn't paying much attention to the size label in their very, very large velveteen hunting sporran, dangling menacingly between Two posts.

The large bald rhinoceros, whose name was Tim Buck II, constantly passed wind while dancing the foxtrot while supping copious amounts of Ribena. This meant the blackcurrant, content and happy with the blacck-ur-rant contest running locally for our Labour MP, who is a big red spokesman who fiddles while he plays with? himself or possibly someone else's small group of musicians, who are always plotting their next trip to transylvania for blood transfusions and steak dinners washed down with brushes made by Acme brush corp, where my Dad got his first ever kiss on his ruby red, two-seater sports drum kit, whilst creating the perfect blancmange. Speaking of bananas and droopy? soft dangling earlobes, my pet chimp, who is known for his calligraphy skills, had a holy tap-dancing bucket and an entirely captivating habit of dangling his earlobes in festering piles of mackerel shaped jammie dodgers and Tunnocks tea cakes, creating an almighty new creation dedicated to the pursuit of cheesy faced ripe stilton gasmasks incorporating nuclear grade sweet chili sauce, generating copious amounts of intestinal discomfort demanding immediate release of noxious gasses through the enormous front door.

Meanwhile, not a million miles away a a circus clown with a-a stutter or breakdown cover withdrew his large retirement fund and Spent it all on silly trinkets shaped like chickens. Wow! Golden eggs....... said Lyn. After loading up milliontown, its poultry epidermis seemed completely plucked leaving a bald wrinkled and exposed skin dotted with memories of old memories of old lang syne, sung in Swedish meatballs, bought from Ikea. So much for flat packed furniture, for sitting and pondering about the meaning of life imprisonment for zombies who happen to write track two without realising that they were contributing to a masterwork Daniel O'Donnell tribute of Pantera covers, to be played with old rusted bedsrings coated with cheese sauce and iron filings, crating a tasty magnetic boil oozing a sweet yet sickly pustulent liquid which turns most esophogi inside out and purple.